Calm After the Storm
by EmilyCastrov
Summary: Veldin is being hit with the strongest storms its seen in years, and Ratchet fights his own battle with pneumonia. Luckily, Grim is there to take care of him when he gets in over his head. (Collab with Chinterra)


Ratchet's loft bedroom has certainly seen prettier sights. The windows are closed off, the blinds attempting to drown out the flashes of light amidst the inky darkness. The walls shake with the roar of the elements, and there's a different type of rumble from within the building. The floors and bed are littered with balled up tissue, and a trash can is placed next to the crumpled pile of blankets. The body underneath the sheets is shivering despite the warmth surrounding it. The floors creak as a large tusked figure approaches the bed, gently nudging the clump of blankets. A weak moan sounds from underneath as a blonde-furred hand pushes down the blankets, revealing the pale face of the person underneath.

"How ya' doin there, kid? Feelin' okay?"

A low and nearly-undetectable grumble is heard. The blankets shift as glossy green eyes roll away from Grim, and Ratchet adjusts his weakened frame to lie on his side. The movement is more effort than he initially had strength for, and the action pulls a cough from his lungs.

"I can get ya' somethin' to eat if you want. Ya' think ya' can?"

Ratchet answers with a weak smile and a nod, and Grim heeds his request. The bed shifts as Grim slowly raises himself, walking towards the lift to drop to the lower floor. Once on the first floor, he approaches the kitchen, and opens one of the cabinets. Grabbing one of the soup cans, Grim pulls the top off and pours the contents into a small pot, already prepared for the task at hand. A flick of the wrist turns the dial, and all that's left to do is wait…

A clap of thunder rattles the windows, jostling Ratchet from a restless sleep. The unexpected noise causes his entire body to flinch, earning him another cough as his body trembles with the force. His large green eyes open just a bit to see a mix of gray and other nauseating colors, causing him to close them again.

"Man, this _sucks_."

Digging into the mattress reveals Ratchet's com unit, and clammy hands attempt to steady themselves long enough to dial a familiar number. A soft, yet artificial voice answers.

"Hello there. I am unfortunately away from my communicator at the moment, if you wish to speak with me, leave a message after the beep."

Clank's voice leaves the room as quickly as it arrives, and Ratchet hangs up the call with an exhausted groan. It seems as if all of the Rangers are busy, for all their commlinks are offline. So, the Lombax puts his communicator back before closing his eyes for rest once more.

Grim lazily stirs the pot of soup, his attention focused toward the weather report on the holovision.

"Veldinites are encouraged to remain in their homes and seek shelter. This year's super storm is a big one, hitting the planet harder than it's hit in decades. Power has been disabled in many cities, so if you're watching this, consider yourself lucky."

The mechanic stared at the screen with a concerned expression, hopefully Ratchet could hold until the end of it. Speaking of, he poured the soup into a mug and put a straw inside of it, taking it up to the loft for Ratchet to drink.

"Hey, you up? I got your soup for ya."

Ratchet shuffles to face Grim with a thankful smile as he sits up, or at least attempts to. The strength he held a mere 48 hours ago has left him completely, replaced with wheezing, coughing, and dizziness. Grim notices, placing the soup on a nearby table as he helps Ratchet sit up. After he's settled. Grim places the mug into Ratchet's hands. The object trembles as Ratchet lifts the straw to his mouth to sip the warm broth. The taste and feeling is heavenly, or as close as he's getting at the moment. A barrage of coughs prevents him from getting much down. Grim carefully rubs and pats his back to help him get it out of his system.

"Get it all out, that's it. If this keeps up much longer, I'll have to take ya to the hospital or somethin'."

Ratchet attempts to speak, but decides it's easier to stick to key words between the coughs.

"_N-no..too..risky...storm..._"

Grim shushed him, "It's gonna be okay, kid. You leave the worrying to me, okay?"

After Ratchet struggled to finish the soup, the mug was empty and taken from him by Grim, who watched him lie down. "I'm gonna go wash this, let me know if ya need anything." He said, walking to the lift.

Ratchet nodded weakly and closed his eyes, coughing once again. Content that Ratchet's been somewhat fed, Grim moves to return to the weather report. Only a step is taken before a sound reaches his ears that makes his blood run cold.

Ratchet heaves into the bucket, emptying the contents of his stomach. The sudden wave of absolute helplessness spreads over his body as he lies limp over the edge of his mattress. The coughing returns as his body continues to shake. The nausea lessens, but never fully leaves him. Grim pivots right back around to Ratchet, his well being far more important than the weather anchors.

"Ratchet, you need to get to a doc. I'll take you. It's not just the flu anymore. I'm not takin' no for an answer."

Ratchet makes a small wheezing noise, as if trying to argue against it, and is forced into a coughing fit once more. Grim moves forward, and the lithe frame is quickly scooped up into Grim's arms. With a free hand, Grim flips the switch to drop the lift to the main floor. Grabbing the keys for their dusty old star ship, Grim opens the passenger door. Ratchet is gently placed onto the seat, and Grim reclines the seat as far as possible. Ratchet makes a small whimpering noise as he forces out a sentence.

"G-Grim, my lungs are… Burning…"

The worry in Grim's voice is apparent in his response, and he turns to Ratchet as he cranks up the engine.

"I know, Ratchet. Just hang in there for another hour, alright? The docs are gonna fix you right up."

Ratchet's ears ring and his head spins as he nods. The ship hovers a few feet off the ground, speeding off to the nearest hospital. The thunder shakes the hull, and the lightning flashes strike far too close for comfort. Each slight turbulence makes Ratchet's world spin, and he fights the urge to retch onto the floorboards.

Grim notices this, and sends a glance towards Ratchet, taking in his weakened state while having a hint of encouragement in his voice.

"Hold 'er steady, kid. You're doing great."

Ratchet squints his eyes open towards the voice. The words are muffled by the splitting headache, but the tone suggests positive intent. With a weak smile, Ratchet gives Grim a shaky thumbs up. The hand drops immediately afterwards, Ratchet placing his focus back on following Grim's request. Soon, after what felt like an eternity, a tall white building came into view. The hospital. Grim parks, lifting Ratchet into his arms and bolting for the front door.

The nurses in the main entrance take one look at the drenched fongoid and lombax, and immediately place Ratchet onto a stretcher. Orders bounce back and forth between a doctor and nurse. _Get an IV, prep a room. _As Ratchet is carted away, all Grim can do is pray for the best.

Hours later, Grim is called to the front desk to hear the news.

"Don't worry, Mr. Razz; he's alright. He's waiting for you in room 104. He should be up any moment now."

Grim nodded, "Thank you."

The Fongoid walked away from the desk to read a list of what floors the rooms were on, and caught sight of room 104, it was on the second floor.

"There we go."

The Fongoid went towards the elevator and pressed the up button, walking inside when it lowered down and pressing another to go up to the second floor.

The elevator stops, and Grim bolts towards the room.. With a gentle knock, the door is opened slowly. Grim peers in, seeing Ratchet with a bit of color back in his face. He's just waking up, but still clearly exhausted. Ratchet sits up, his hands resting in his lap. Upon seeing his caretaker, Ratchet raises the hand that's not connected to the IV drip. He waves lazily, weakly, and drops it as soon as the gesture is complete.

"_Hey, Grim."_

Grim slowly walks to the bed, taking Ratchet's free hand and rubbing the palm. Ratchet weakly squeezes the hand in return, and looks up towards him. Grim's shaking for his own reasons, and smiles to Ratchet.

"I'm glad you're alright, Ratchet. Pneumonia ain't a joke. I'm just not sure why you didn't ask for help sooner. I would've helped, ya know."

"I know, Grim. I thought it was gonna run its course and be done, but it just got worse. The garage has been busy, and I didn't want to waste your time on something I could deal with myself."

Grim flinches, shocked at the statement. With wide eyes, Grim locks his gaze with Ratchet's.

"Kid, I promise you, you are not a waste of time. You never have been, never will be. If you need something, I'm here for ya, no matter what."

Ratchet looks down for a moment, his ears slightly lowering in guilt.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you…"

Grim sighs, gently pulling Ratchet in for a hug. Ratchet returns it, his face nestled into Grim's chest.

"It's alright, Ratchet. Don't worry about it, it's over and done with. Just promise me that you won't suffer alone from now on."

"I promise, Grim."


End file.
